Say Anything
by Flashback 1701
Summary: Inspired by the Good Charlotte song, Say Anything. It's been some time since the end of the war, and Germany wishes that the phone conversations held between himself and Italy could be like those in the past. GerIta.


Hetaverse. GerIta. Oneshot.

Inspired by the Good Charlotte song, Say Anything.

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

Ludwig could remember when his partner would answer the phone with a smile on his lips that rang in his voice like his contagious cheer. Now the individual on the other end of the connection simply sounded wary and strained.

Thinking of nothing that could be said to mend the growing void between them, the German remained stubbornly mute. Both failed to find the words to fill the silence and so both remained unspeaking. In the days past, Feliciano would happily chatter for hours on end as his ally struggled to complete some amount of paperwork. He would call for help, for guidance, for support, and (though at times reluctant) Ludwig always came through.

As his broad hand began to sweat around the plastic receiver, the blonde could easily recall each of his numerous phone conversations with his Italian counterpart; they had been carefully committed to memory over the years, and their contents buzzed freely about the depths of his otherwise organized mind.

_"Germany's so strong…"_

_ "… is Germany afraid of anything?"_

_ "Help me, Germany, I'm…"_

"… _so glad that Germany's my friend!"_

The war and years of little communication had trapped them in an endless, mutual silent treatment. Ludwig knew it was possible that the nation on the other end still hated him – still wanted nothing to do with him – but something in his throbbing, painful chest had driven him to call the estranged Italian in one last desperate bid for the recovery of what had once been an oddly harmonious relationship.

"Germany?" Feliciano sounded so old when he spoke, voice rising faintly at the end of his one-word inquiry. He had once spoken in a mixture of joyful nonsense and laughter, and Ludwig found himself begging a god he no longer knew to restore that carefree manner to his formal ally. In the past decade, the German found that he'd missed those familiar, once-maddening giggles more than anything.

"_Hallo,_ Italy." His words felt strange leaving his clumsy mouth, stumbling as though he'd forgotten how to form them. Swallowing back his frayed nerves, he continued, "How are you?"

"Fine, I guess." There was no hint of an accusation in his voice though Ludwig searched so desperately for it. "And you, Germany?"

"Fine."

Again a silence smothered them, killing all the timid, awkward attempts at speech that tempted their fumbling tongues and pursed lips. Finally Ludwig snapped.

"Say something." Voice low and commanding - a tone he couldn't easily abandon - he ordered the other nation as desperation rang shrilly on the air.

It was an eternity and a heartbeat before Feliciano finally spoke hesitantly. "I… I don't remember the last time Germany's ever called me, ve."

"You never gave me the chance." The thundering of his heart suddenly seemed to fade as speech became possible once more. "You always seemed quite content to completely tie up my phone line."

Music in the form of the Italian's laughter fell pleasantly across the German's pale ears. "Of course! That's because-!"

"Because?" The pressure returned, both parties knowing what was going unsaid, and both pleading for the courage and resolve to face it.

"Because… well, you know, Germany."

"Tell me what I know, Italy."

For one terrible, heartbreaking moment, Ludwig feared that the other nation had hung up his telephone and left _him_ hanging, clinging hysterically to the disconnected line in the hopes of hearing what he needed to be reminded.

"Because I love you, Ludwig."

And before he could respond, the final crackle of the receiver being placed into its cradle sounded, followed by the continuous dial tone that seemed at that moment like a scream. Or maybe the screaming was only occurring in the German nation's head, shaping into something between a shriek of frustration and a bellow of victory. Perhaps there was hope for them yet, perhaps not all had been lost.

"I won't give up," he promised to no one. Whispering into the useless mouthpiece, Ludwig pleads came too late. "Just give me a sign – say anything. Say anything."


End file.
